Neverwinter Forest you're so art deco,

he listened intently as rökkur spoke, the conviction in the shadow’s voice as steady as the ground beneath them. the name, mánilundur, resonated with a quiet reverence that sólhárr couldn’t ignore. his golden gaze swept over the glade once more, the pale blooms glowing faintly as though they approved of their new title. he nodded, slowly at first, then firmly.

she is beautiful, he said, his voice low but carrying a weight of approval. mánilundur. the moongrove. it suits her. his gaze lingered on rökkur for a moment, watching the pride and purpose settle into the man’s frame. it was a good name, chosen with thought and respect. sólhárr could see that rökkur would honor it.

he stepped closer, his posture relaxed but his tone inquisitive as he continued. and you, rökkur? sólhárr asked, his head tilting slightly. you’ve given purpose to this place, but what purpose do you seek for yourself? his eyes glinted with curiosity. is it only to guard the mánilundur, or is there more you wish to do for forneskja?

there was no judgment in his voice, only genuine interest, as sólhárr waited for rökkur’s answer. this was a moment of possibility, and sólhárr was eager to see where the shadow’s path might lead.